Things That I Am Not Allowed To Do At Hogwarts
by Laveycee
Summary: Based off of lists on different authors' bios. If anyone else has written one of these - there is at least one - I have tried my very best to not copy off your stuff. These are hilarious things -at the very least the rules are. T because I'm still paranoid. Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even this fic idea. Currently 15/46.
1. Chapter 1

Hello people! So, this idea came from several lists I keep seeing on people's bios.

**1. I will not poke Hufflepuffs with spoons, nor will I insist that their house colors indicate that they are "covered in bees".**

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><p>"Don't the Hufflepuffs look like they're covered in bees?" I whisper.<p>

My friend gives me a strange look and stays silent.

"No, really," I say. "They look like they're covered in freaking bees!"

"No they don't," she says, but I'm not listening.

_Maybe…if I poke them with a spoon…they'll start…buzzing! _I wiggle with excitement. _I'll do it now_, I decide. I quietly grab a spoon and go over to the Hufflepuff table. I chose a first year for my victim.

_Poke!_

"Ow! What the hell?"

Dang. She didn't buzz.

"Whatever made you poke her?" Professor McGonagall shrieks.

"I wanted to see if she was covered in bees…" I mumble.

"Detention!"


	2. Chapter 2

**2. No matter how good a fake Australian accent I can do, I will not imitate Steve Irwin during Care of Magical Creatures class.**

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><p>"Crikey! Look at the size of those crocs!" I say with an exaggerated Australian accent.<p>

"Those aren't crocs. Those are flobberworms," Mike says. "What's with the accent, anyway?"

"I'm imitating Steve Irwin." Mike looks blank. "Muggle crocodile hunter?"

"I'm a pureblood, remember?"

"Ah, well, we can't all be awesome." Mike looks like he's about to reply, but we're interrupted.

"As amusing as your accent has been, Miss Montoya, could you and Mr. Cross please pay attention to my lesson?" Professor Kettleburn asks.

"Yes, Professor, we will," Mike and I say obediently.

"Nice Steve Irwin accent, by the way."

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><p>I'll let you decide who said the last bit: Professor Kettleburn or Some Random Student. By the way, flobberworms are itty-bitty compared to crocodiles, as they're about ten inches long:<p>

_**FLOBBERWORM**_

M.O.M. Classification: X

_The Flobberworm lives in damp ditches. A thick brown worm reaching up to ten inches in length, the Flobberworm moves very little. One end is indistinguishable from the other, both producing the mucus from which the name is derived and which is sometimes used to thicken potions. The Flobberworm's preferred food is lettuce, though it will eat almost any vegetation._

That is a direct quote from "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" by J.K. Rowling/Newt Scamander. The "X" means "Boring".


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to 4QuidditchIRideMyDragon for my first review on this story!

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><p><strong>3. Growing marijuana or hallucinogenic mushrooms is not "an extra credit project for Herbology".<strong>

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><p>"Growing well…this should go for….15 sickles? Maybe?"<p>

"What is this for, Mr. Montague?" I spin around and see Professor Sprout in the doorway. "Marijuana and hallucinogenic mushrooms? Not the lethal kind, I hope."

"Professor Sprout, I was growing these in the hopes of getting extra credit in Herbology." I look at her hopefully.

"Mr. Montague, if you wanted an extra credit assignment, you should have asked me. These are _illegal_. Come with me to see the Headmaster. If you aren't lucky…you will be expelled and sent to jail."

As we head up to the castle, I mentally curse the one who got me addicted. They're the reason I grew those plants. That and the chance to make some money.

Half an hour later, I'm expelled.

Half a year later, I'm in Azkaban.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, some of these are lame and stupid for this. I am definitely not Fred or George Weasley. I freely admit that and embrace it.

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><p><strong>4. "I've heard every possible joke about Oliver Woods' name" is not a challenge.<strong>

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><p>"<em>Wood<em> you pass the _olivers_?"

"Heard it. Want the olives?"

"_Wood_ I? Yes. _Oliver_ teammates aren't eating."

"TEAM! EAT! NOW! Issue solved."

"…Er…"

"Any more jokes?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"What are those two doing?"

"I…don't want to know. So…joke time?"

""I think they're going to try turning the Slytherins' hair red and gold. Anyway, knock on wood that we win today."

"…that's a new one."

"That wasn't a joke."

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><p>So, the "Oliver teammates" was really supposed to be "all of our teammates", but it had to be changed to be an Oliver Wood joke. So, these are so definitely lame, but... c'mon, have some pity for the poor non-punny author.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**5. Putting up Doug Henning posters in Filch's office is not appropriate.**

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><p>"Are you sure about this?" I ask George.<p>

"Of course, Fred! It'll be funny! Besides, Doug Henning's like Filch! I think he was a Squib."

"Alright, we'll go."

We go and put up several posters of Doug Henning. As we're finishing, Filch comes in.

_Great timing, Filch_, I grumble mentally.

"WHAT DID YOU TWO DO TO MY OFFICE!" Filch screeches, eyes bulging.

"Well, there's this Muggle magician named Doug Henning…"

"And we figured he was a Squib…."

"Like you!" we say together.

"But—I—I'M NOT A SQUIB! YOU'LL BE IN DETENTION FOR A MONTH! GO SEE PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL!"


	6. Chapter 6

**6. I will not go to class skyclad.**

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><p>As I come out of my dormitory, I try to imagine what Professor McGonagall's reaction will be. Cries of "What the HELL?", "Put some clothes on!", and "Crazy first year!" (and even "MY EYES!") follow me down to the Great Hall. Fifteen seconds after I set foot in the Great hall (I counted) Professor McGonagall is by my side.<p>

"What—exactly—are you _doing_?"

"I'm going to class skyclad, Professor."

McGonagall's lips are thin. She takes off her robe and hands it to me, saying, "Put this on, then go put on some clothes on. Then put them in the laundry."

I start to protest, but think better of it. At least I didn't get detention.


	7. Chapter 7

**7. The Giant Squid is not an appropriate date to the Yule Ball.**

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><p>"Professor McGonagall, I have a problem," Fred Weasley announces.<p>

"And what is this…problem, Mr. Weasley?"

"My date needs to be in water for the Yule Ball."

McGonagall's face is priceless. "And…who is your date, Mr. Weasley?"

"The Giant Squid," Fred answers promptly.

McGonagall's mouth falls open. "But—what—_never_, in all my years of—_entirely inappropriate_—" she sputters.

"So, someone'll take care of that then?" Fred asks brightly.

"NO! Find another date, Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall almost shrieks.

"Alright, Professor." Fred leaves for Gryffindor Tower—maybe he'll ask Angelina…

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><p>That's all today, folks! Until Friday!<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Tigerlils, this chapter is dedicated to you. And I can only apologize to the lovely readers I have out there: that annoying thing called "real life" and "high school" can get very overwhelming. Although so far my freshman year has been going pretty well, but between moving to a new house, starting a new school, making sure that all of my homework is done, and balancing marching band—which is so much fun; if you're an eighth grader and you're in band, try marching band for a year if your high school offers it—I've had a hectic time. (Also, all of my fanfiction stuff was buried in a box. Therefore I couldn't get to it easily…)**

**Review Replies:**

**Tigerlils: Thank you for making me feel guilty for not updating. And Steve Irwin did have a really pathetic death…. (with no offense meant to the dead. May Steve Irwin rest in peace…)**

**9shadowgirl11: I'm posting! Aren't you proud of me?**

**So, Spock…I think that we need a new way to say disclaimers, don't you?**

**Spock: I agree. Do you happen to have an idea?**

**Me: …Uh, no, unfortunately. ANY IDEAS, PEOPLE?!**

**Spock: It is not necessary to yell.**

**Me: Let's just get on with the chapter…**

**DISCLAIMER: Do I look like J.K. Rowling to you? Wait, let me answer that for you: No, I do not. Therefore I don't own Harry Potter. Darn.**

**By the way, THIS CHAPTER IS "T" FOR LANGUAGE.**

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><p><strong>8. I will not use Umbridge's quill to write "I told you I was hardcore".<strong>

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><p>"I dare you to," Colin says, wiggling with excitement.<p>

I sigh. "Well….okay." Pulling this off without dying will be very difficult.

"Hello, Umbitch!" I announce as I walk into DADA.

"Excuse me?" she hisses.

"I'm sorry—_Professor_ Umbitch," I amend with an air of remorse.

"Detention," she snarls.

"Okay!" I say brightly.

At seven o'clock, I report to her pink, frilly office.

"You will write _I will not disrespect my teachers_. Here is a quill for you."

I take the quill and produce parchment. Quickly, I write _I told you I was hardcore_, then rip it off and complete my lines.

Colin is _so _impressed.

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><p><strong>Me: By the way, is anyone else addicted to Facebook's Farmville 2? Because I am and I admit it.<strong>

**Spock: Admitting that you have a problem is the first step to recovery.**

**Me: Did Spock just joke? You saw that, right? Spock, what would Dr. McCoy say?**

**Spock: *Eyebrow of Doom* I suggest that you ask him.**

**Me: Yeah, I'll do that… Would anyone be interested in a prologue for this? Like, in the year 2300 or so, stories are being told about these? Because I'm considering writing one… It would be considerably longer than any of these, just so you know. Spock, would you ask?**

**Spock: Very well. Review?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Me: So, this is really short. Apparently my itty-bitty adorable notebook, while a good size, isn't really meant for long chapters.**

**Spock: Wasn't it meant to record dreams?**

**Me: Dreams are overrated. Although I did have an odd one where the football game was going on and we were marching in a circle... But anyway.**

**DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling? Where?! *looks around wildly* Oh. Well, I'm not the wonderful Ms. Rowling, who is kindly letting us fanfiction writers use her creations... And I'm also not whoever owns Hetalia. Even if I am just using their names. And kinda their personalities...**

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><p><strong>9. I will stop referring to showering as "giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful".<strong>

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><p>After finishing my homework in the common room, I get up. Glancing up, Alfred (who still hasn't finished his work) asks, "Where're ya goin', Artie?"<p>

I don't know what came over me. I replied: "My name is _Arthur_, and I'm going to give Moaning Myrtle an eyeful."

Hearing this, Ludwig the Head Boy decided to deduct 15 points for inappropriateness, adding that he "would expect that level of perverted-ness from Francis, but not from Arthur", and to not refer to showering as giving Myrtle an eyeful.

Needless to say, several first years picked it up.

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><p><strong>Me: So, for all of you non-Hetalia lovers, it's about countries who are personified. It's kinda hard to explain, really... But anyway, Alfred is America, Arthur is EnglandBritain, Ludwig is (West) Germany, and Francis is France.**

**Spock: Just go watch it. Even if it's rated TV-M, it's really not that inappropriate. But if there's a young child in the room and you don't have headphones on...**

**Me: Don't watch it. Review? And don't do drugs, people! It's not worth it!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Me: Two updates in one day. This is good.**

**Spock: Considering how often you've updated before...**

**Me: Oh, you be quiet.**

**Spock: ...**

**Me: Anywho, this goes waaaayyy back. Back to... *dramatic music* (Hey! Where'd that come from?!) THE MARAUDER'S ERA!**

**Disclaimer: Me no J.K. Rowling. Me American teenager. Me borrow Harry Potter-verse. Me return later.**

**Me: No idea why I was writing like that. But it's fun!**

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><p><strong>10. Polishing my wand in the common room is acceptable. "Polishing my wand" in the common room is not.<strong>

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><p>I notice that the Marauders are being suspiciously quiet, which doesn't bode well. So I, as a Prefect, should probably see what's up. "What are you four doing?" I ask, sneaking up from behind them.<p>

"Er, hi, Evans…" Sirius Black says, shoving a bit of blank parchment over several filled with writing. I notice that James Potter's hand has leapt to his hair.

"What are you doing?" I repeat.

"We—we're polishing our wands!" squeaks Peter Pettigrew, holding up his wand and a cloth as evidence.

Remus Lupin, my fellow Prefect, shoots me a sheepish look.

I sigh. "Fine. But if you turn my robes pink again…" I trail off. I've scared them enough.

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><p><strong>Me: Uh, if you want the time for this...fifth year or later? Because Prefects are chosen summer before fifth year... So you can decide: fifth year or sixth year. Not seventh, because then she'd be Head Girl. It's up to you.<strong>

**Spock: Reviews are appreciated.**

**Me: Flames are used to roast marshmallows, along with other things. Mmm...s'mores... Want a virtual s'more? Here ya go!**


	11. Chapter 11

**11. If a classmate falls asleep, I will not take advantage of that fact and draw the Dark Mark on their arm.**

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><p>History of Magic is dull. This is universally accepted. So is it any wonder that people fall asleep during Binns'-quite frankly-deathly boring lectures?<p>

I notice that Harry has fallen asleep, and Ron's not paying any attention to his surroundings. A spark of mischief grabs me. Carefully setting my quill to the inside left forearm of Harry, I quickly sketch a Dark Mark. _He'll get over it_, I reason.

Ten minutes later, the bell rings, waking Harry up and abruptly dislodging everyone else from their stupor. I wait for a moment, then...

_"HERMIONE! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"_

_Oh, but it is, Harry... it is..._

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><p>Me: *slightly sheepish* Has it really been almost seven months?<p>

Spock: Yes.

Me: Well, I feel really terrible about that... Would it be better if I said that part of the reason I haven't updated was because I was watching Doctor Who?

Spock: Most likely not.

Me: Uh... Anyway, you get two chapters today and I'll start writing the rest of them... And working on other FFN projects... So... *runs away*

Spock: We will bid you "goodbye" until the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**12. House elves are not acceptable replacements for Bludgers.**

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><p>"The Bludgers are missing," John Harrison, Quidditch Captain, announces. "Anyone have a replacement?"<p>

"I've got an idea, John," Donna Saxon says. "Be back in...ten minutes." Donna races off to the castle.

About ten minutes later, Donna comes back, two house elves in tow.

"Donna, we can't-" Jack Tyler begins.

"We is glad to help Mistress Saxon," one of them says hurriedly.

"Um... All right, then. Let's practice!" yells John.

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><p>~20 minutes later~<p>

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><p>"Harrison! House elves are not acceptable replacements for Bludgers! I am ashamed to call you a Ravenclaw-"<p>

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><p>Me: Moral of story: Don't listen to Ravenclaws who are Beaters.<p>

Spock: If you cannot tell, Laveycee has been reading a lot of Doctor Who fanfiction-

Me: Yes, I have.

Spock: And that has popped up in her work. Clearly.

Me: And the time period for this is whenever. Around the Founders' era, the Mauderers' Era, around the time of the Harry Potter books, after the Epilogue, whenever you want. It could even take place in a parallel universe where the Doctor Who characters are witches and wizards, if you want.


	13. Chapter 13

**13. Starting a betting pool on the fate of this year's DADA teacher is tasteless and tacky, not a clever money-making concept.**

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><p>"Step on up—you have a chance of winning several Galleons! Just make a wager—test your Inner Eye!" Fred Weasley yells to the last meeting of the DA before the break.<p>

"What are you doing?" Hermione sighs.

"Taking bets on Umbridge's fate, of course. Care to place a bet?" Fred offers.

"I think she'll be attacked by nargles. They really don't like her..." Luna says, drifting past.

"Lee thinks she'll be eaten by an arach (giant spider)," George contributes, walking up from behind Hermione.

"I'll pass," Hermione tells them.

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, this is lacking in taste and rather tacky—not clever at all," says Ginny, practicing her imitation of Professor McGonagall.

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><p>Oh, I'm so sorry! Life continuously gets in the way of my writing, but it is, alas, unavoidable. Bottom line: I won't be able to update as much as I'd like, but when I do update, it'll most likely be on Fridays, as that's when I have AC Lab-and since I've started bringing my laptop with me, it'll be fine.<p>

Hopefully, I will see any remaining readers next week... If you all haven't forgotten about this fic!


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm baaack~! Did y'all miss me? And yeah, I know, not so good on the updating thing. Sorry. Um. So, distractions in Real Life (which is a very scary thing, stay away from it at all costs), and Junior Year of High School. For those of you lucky enough to not be in the American Education System, most colleges look at Junior Year of High School to see whether or not they'll look at your college application. Basically, it's the hardest year. It sucks. On to the story:**

**Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling, therefore I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p><strong>14. I will not start every Potions class by asking Professor Snape if today's project is suitable for use as a sexual lubricant.<strong>

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><p><span>1st Day of Classes:<span>

"Professor Snape?"

_I have found the Irritating Gryffindor._ "Yes?" I drawl, putting as much disdain as possible into my voice.

"Is today's project suitable for use as a sexual lubricant?"

_Merlin's tailbone! This child isn't just an Irritating Gryffindor-he's a _Perverted Irritating Gryffindor_!_

Last Day of Classes:

The 17-year-old stands in Professor McGonagall's office, directly in front of the portrait of the recently deceased Professor Snape.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes?"

"Were any of our potions suitable for use as sexual lubricants? Colin always wanted to ask, but he was always too scared."

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><p><strong>Um... not my strongest ending. Tell me what ya thought? Also, there should be a few more chapters on the way really soon, if I can just do the next two, I've already got 17 written. Allons-y!<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**15. "Liften Separatis Crotchum" is not a real spell.**

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><p>"Gabriel?" my newly-eleven-year-old brother Adam asks.<p>

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Teach me a spell."

I wait. Three... two... one...

"Please?" she adds hastily. "I wanna be ahead of everyone else."

"Well... Okay," I say, pretending to give in. I take Adam to the garage, where Mum and Dad won't hear us. "Pay attention," I say sternly.

Adam nods.

I take out my wand. "Liften Separatis Crotchum," I say, waving my wand and casting lumos nonverbally.

"Wow!" Adam says. "Can I show Sam?"

"Sure, kid. It might not work the first time - keep trying!"

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><p>On the train that year, nearly every first year is trying to cast the spell.<p>

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><p><strong>Sorry for the long wait between updates! Hopefully they'll be a bit quicker for a while! Also, I really didn't like this one very much, which is part of the reason I haven't updated for so long. Now it looks like it'll be a while - again - because now I have to look up Chick Tracts and watch it (? is it a show?) so I can write the next chapter.<strong>


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